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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609227">Rose By Any Other Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beloved_My_Johanna/pseuds/Beloved_My_Johanna'>Beloved_My_Johanna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sally Face (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical, Child Abuse, Depressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/F, F/M, Friendship, God Hates Victorians, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, One Night Stands, Orphans, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Supernatural Elements, Tumblr Shitposts In Every Chapter, Victorians Amirightboys, Widowed, You Just Gotta Find Them</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:48:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beloved_My_Johanna/pseuds/Beloved_My_Johanna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Travis is just going away for a winter. A little getaway, insisted on by his mother. That's it. </p><p>He's going up to Addison, a hopefully better place than his hometown. </p><p>But it isn't long before things get... <em>weird</em>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ashley Campbell &amp; Larry Johnson, Ashley Campbell &amp; Sal Fisher, Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson, Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps, Todd Morrison/Neil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Where have you been? It's past midnight you know."</p><p>"I know, mother." Travis shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. "I got lost on my way home."</p><p>A hand struck his cheek, the face of his mother twisted with anger.</p><p>"Don't. I don't want your excuses, especially now. You are <em>supposed</em> to leave just a few hours, <em>well rested</em>. Your father would be livid, you know."</p><p><em>Father</em>. The word stung a little bit. Travis didn't like thinking about his father in any capacity, but his mother bringing him up out of spite was worse. So, so much worse.</p><p>His mother took a deep breath, and gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, darling," she said with a sad smile, "you may as well stay up."</p><p>"Right, okay."</p><p>"I'm going to bed. No need to leave a note when you're gone, I'll know."</p><p>With that, she left him there, sitting in the dining room. Something about the way the conversation ended felt off. As if she didn't want the thought of him to linger. But it's not as if he was <em>dying</em>. Just. . . going away for a winter.</p><p>Travis let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and the candles all went out. He was frozen for a moment, more confused than afraid, unable to make a sound. The sudden dark felt suffocating.</p><p>Striking a match, he relit a single candle and left the dining room. He would've had to put them all out anyway, so that little creepy occurrence wasn't really that bad. It could even be considered helpful.</p><p>--</p><p>Travis sat by the front door, counting the seconds ticking by. His new watch, a birthday gift from the pastor, told him it was nearly time to be off. He'd not been on a train since he was little, and they were probably different than back then.</p><p>The clock struck four, and Travis got up. The sky was dark and the air was chilly, but the warm glow of street lamps lit his path. The train station was only a twenty minute walk, practically nothing compared to his regular walk to school.</p><p>A noise from the alleyway startled him. He took a quick look, but nothing was there. <em>Must have been a cat</em>.</p><p>Travis didn't like cats that much. He found them creepy and too self-sufficient. Dogs, he felt, were much more fun to play with, and better companions.</p><p>He reached the train station and sat down on one of the benches. His coat didn't quite block out the chill, but it was keeping him awake for now. He'd just sleep on the train. That'd be better than missing it entirely.</p><p>Seconds went by, then minutes, until he'd been sitting there for nearly an hour. The train still hadn't arrived. Did mother get the time wrong? No, that wouldn't have happened. She's so exact with these things. All of a sudden, a harsh light hit his face. Travis covered his eyes and held his luggage close.</p><p>"Oh! It's just the Phelps boy," a familiar voice said. "Sorry, son. We're just doing our rounds. I'll leave you be."</p><p>It was Mr. Morrison, one of the clerks at the station. The light was just him turning on the ceiling lights.</p><p>"Were you, uh… sitting here in the dark?"</p><p>"Oh- um, yes sir."</p><p>"You could turn on the light any time, you know." He scratched his head. "We won't get mad."</p><p>"I've got it sir." Travis leaned back on the bench. "Are the trains running late?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah. They're backed up for hours."</p><p>"Ugh."</p><p>"Yeah. Where you headed?"</p><p>"I'm going up to Addison for the winter. Mother insisted."</p><p>Mr. Morrison's face dropped. "Ah, there." He sighed. "You, uh, you be careful there alright? Something's not right about that place."</p><p>Travis nodded. Was it… Todd that went missing there last year? That's it. Todd Morrison. It wasn't in any of the papers, strangely, but the Morrisons were wrecked, it really was a sad spectacle.</p><p>"I will, sir. On God. What sort of son would I be if I let my Mother down like that?"</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. Fuck. Wrong thing to say. Wrong wrong wrong wrong-</em>
</p><p>"Right. Okay," Mr. Morrison muttered, a little choked up, and went into his office. "Your train will be here in twenty minutes."</p><p>"Yes sir."</p><p>
  <em>Nice going, Travis. Calling his probably-dead son a disappointment. Great job.</em>
</p><p>He sighed and tried to relax. Just another twenty minutes, and he'll be out of this place. This awful, awful place.</p><p>Nockfell was always an awful place. it was too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer, while the river running past town made everything just a little too damp. Hopefully Addison would be better. Sure, it snowed more, but Travis had heard that it wasn't quite so freezing. And without a river running through there wasn't much rain.</p><p>"Fuck the rain," Travis muttered. With the crack of dawn, he could see the clouds forming overhead. What a shitty place to live.</p><p><em>At least I'll be out of here in a few minutes</em>, he thought to himself. <em>But the ride's gonna be downright miserable.</em></p><p>A horn blared about a mile away, and Travis stood up. His bags were light, since his mother had told him most of the things he'd need would already be there. All he had was clothes, a couple books for his studies, and spending money for outings.</p><p><em>Where am I even going?</em> Nobody had ever given him the name of his… caretaker? Landlord? Whoever. Was it an Addison? He'd heard that the Addison family still ran the town over a century after founding it. Interesting.</p><p>The train finally rode up, it's glossy black finish shining in the early morning light. <em>Must be a new engine</em>. It really was a beautiful machine, so intricate, each part working to push tonnes of metal along a track.</p><p>"All aboard!"</p><p>Travis took a step onto the thick red carpet of the seating car, just as it began to rain.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not me writing a fic I've wanted to for a long time</p><p>Like rip my mental health but im different</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thunder rattled the train car slightly, jolting Travis awake. Had it been raining the entire time he slept? <em> God in heaven, what shitty weather. </em> He just hoped that it would clear up by the time the train reached Addison. </p><p>He got up from his seat to stretch his legs, walking up and down the train car. Nobody else was there. The place was entirely empty. <em> Strange. </em></p><p>The lights flickered with another crack of thunder. </p><p>"Maybe I can read something," Travis muttered to nobody in particular, laying down in a random seat. What did it matter, not like anyone was sitting there. </p><p>He sat up after a few minutes and decided to look out the window. This would be a <em> long </em>train ride. </p><p>It was pitch black outside, the storm clouds unnaturally thick. It looked like it was midnight. Rain hit the roof of the car making a noise that was strangely loud. All of this annoyed him to no end. </p><p>Until something caught his eye. </p><p>Travis squinted, eventually being able to make out an animal-like form. It was massive, slim, seeming to run as fast as the train—or faster. It was dark as a shadow and it's silhouette changed slightly from moment to moment. </p><p>He was entranced, the creature's movements impossibly smooth. It leaped with such speed and power. Such grace.</p><p>All it took, though, was a quick glance away. He looked down for a split second, and it was gone. </p><p>
  <em> I must've imagined it.  </em>
</p><p>It felt so <em> real </em>, though.</p><p><em> Best not think about it too much </em>, Travis thought to himself. Dwelling on things he found unnatural for too long tended to hurt his head.</p><p>Travis stood up yet again. Pacing up and down the car, he tried to clear his mind. The rattling of the lights, the vibration of the floor, the glare from the windows reflecting back at him, all of this was throwing him off. They disoriented him. Why would something so minor annoy him so much? Why couldn't he just be <em> normal? </em></p><p>Normal.</p><p>He'd never been normal. </p><p>Through primary school he didn't have any real friends. Some kids were told to be nice to him by their parents for his family name. <em> "Make friends with the Phelps boy," </em>they'd say, and he'd hear them. The false smiles and empty flattery did nothing besides make him angry. Angry at the kids, angry at the parents, angry at himself. So, he'd take it out on everyone else. He would start fights, bully those weaker than him, and pull out his family name to avoid consequences.</p><p>Travis hated that it would always work. </p><p>Something in the back of his head pushed and prodded, <em> this is wrong, </em> it would say, <em> getting away with all of this. You're a coward.  </em></p><p>Maybe he <em> was </em> a coward. What did it matter either way? If he was meant to be punished, he would've been. The teachers and monitors were the <em> real </em> cowards. Wouldn't punish him just because of his family name.</p><p>Evading consequences became something of a game for Travis. How far could he go? How ridiculous of an excuse could he make? <em> Where's the line? </em></p><p>The line, it turns out, was murder. </p><p>Well, not murder. Manslaughter. He pushed a boy off of the bridge and into the river mid autumn when he was about twelve.</p><p>The kid struggled, flailing his arms in the water as he was dragged kicking and screaming down the river. Travis watched as the boy left his sight, current tugging him along.</p><p>He might've gotten away with the act had nobody been around when he pushed him. But someone saw, a little kid, much younger than Travis. He went running directly to Travis's father and spilled everything. His father had approached him when he came home, came in hand, and beat him senseless. All the while, screaming furiously about the family name and what could happen if it ever came out. </p><p>It never did, truthfully, and the boy's body was never recovered.</p><p>Travis didn't like thinking about this either.</p><p>That boy he'd pushed was his <em> friend </em> . He didn't think he'd die, he just thought he'd be angry or hurt. But he <em> was </em> dead. And Travis couldn't change that.</p><p>The lashing he'd gotten was the bare minimum punishment he could've received. And it was still hell on his body. </p><p>Travis's head began to hurt. He sat down in another seat, a few rows back from his original one. It really was strange that nobody else seemed to be taking that train that night.</p><p>
  <em> How much longer would it be now?  </em>
</p><p>He checked his pocket watch. He'd only been on here an hour, it seemed, and his destination was still three and a half off. This revelation was… <em> inconvenient </em> , since having a solid 3 hours entirely alone with his thoughts wouldn't be ideal. If only he had <em> something </em> to distract him. A book he actually <em> wanted </em> to read, a deck of cards to fiddle with, <em> alcohol </em>even. Just something to ease his crushing boredom. </p><p>The fact that he'd managed to get some sleep before was nothing short of a miracle. Sleeping the rest of the way didn't much appeal to him, but neither did staying awake and enduring the long, <em> long </em>ride he was in for.</p><p>
  <em> Why is everything so loud? </em>
</p><p>The lights were still rattling and buzzing. That was the worst part. It was so subtle but the noise was so constant. He hated it.</p><p>As that thought passed by, the lights went out all at once. It was dark, pitch black. Travis startled onto his feet, looking around frantically. <em> Was the power out? </em> He went to find a match, walking towards where he'd left his bags. </p><p><em> Three seats up. </em> He got down onto his knees to search for the matchbox he was <em> sure </em>he had. </p><p>But nothing was there</p><p>Not the matchbox, not the bag, <em> not the seat. </em> Nothing. Travis panicked, and his heart started racing.</p><p>"What the fuck, what the fuck, <em> what the fuck-" </em></p><p>He kept searching, hands moving over the ground in search of <em> something </em>other than the goddamn carpet. His eyes weren't adjusting to the dark at all, like he was blindfolded. Like someone was holding their hands just in front of his eyes. </p><p>Travis finally found something- the matchbox, and grabbed it. He brought it to his chest and fumbled for a match to light. </p><p>He struck the match and lit a candle. Everything was normal. The train car was as it was, his bags were neatly stacked where they were, and he was okay.</p><p>It was quiet now, no more rattling and no more buzzing. Just the rumble of the wheels beneath him. He let out a breath and stood up. The candle didn't provide much light, but it was enough.</p><p>He couldn't quite wrap his head around whatever happened in the dark, but like before, thinking too hard about things he found unnatural made his head hurt.</p><p>
  <em> Maybe a nap wouldn't be so bad. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You ever just not post for 2 months bc you forgot you wrote a fanfic in the first place until you find the Google doc and write and entire gd chapter in a night</p><p>Bc that <em>totally</em> didn't happen to me</p><p>Last night</p><p>Around ~4 am</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Travis didn't sleep. What he managed to do was, in fact, sit in a darkened train car for three straight hours without moving.</p>
<p></p><div class="app-container">
<p></p><div class="doc-container">
<p></p><div class="doc"><p>Sometimes it felt like someone was there with him, standing just past the candlelight. Whoever- or whatever- it was, Travis couldn't be bothered to get up and see. He was tired. <em>Exhausted</em>. And if he couldn't fall asleep, why even try to check? Best to just ignore it.</p><p>He'd found himself ignoring a lot of things those past couple of hours.</p><p>The lights flickered back to life a little bit before the train reached the station, and that came as both a relief and an annoyance. Travis resolved to just cover his ears and try to ignore it.</p><p>When he got off the train, Travis checked the letter and instructions his mother had given him. It said that once he reached the estate house, to knock on the front door and he'd be shown to his room.</p><p>The area he was in seemed normal enough. After he left the platform, it looked just like home. Generic storefronts, boring apartment buildings, and dark alleyways that looked as if they could swallow him whole.</p><p>Strangely, though, despite it being early morning, there was nobody in the streets. It had to be near 8 AM already.</p><p><em>Maybe they're on holiday</em>, he thought in another ineffectual attempt to brush it off. Strange things happened all the time.</p><p>The sun was coming up over the horizon, framed by the foothills surrounding town. That's when Travis noticed it.</p><p>
        <em>The estate house.</em>
      </p><p>The sun cast it only in silhouette, but truly it was massive. A tall, looming building with sloping roofs powdered in snow. It felt… <em>intimidating</em>. Travis couldn't help but think he didn't belong there.</p><p>Still, though he trudged on. The house sat atop one of the hills on the edge of the town, and it wasn't an insignificant walk away.</p><p>The sun felt warm on Travis's face, and he was thankful that the clouds were clearing. Dark and gloomy was never something he liked. Aesthetically, at least. Thunderstorms were always his excuse for staying home from school.</p><p>As he kept walking, the sun rose higher through the sky, and people began walking through the streets. They smiled at him, he smiled politely back. A kind old woman asked if he was new, and he said yes, but that he was only staying for the winter. Her sweet smile faltered a bit.</p><p>"The Addison House?" She asked.</p><p>Travis nodded. "Yes, only for a little while."</p><p>She pressed a coin into his hand and looked him in the eye. "<em>Be wise</em>, my boy."</p><p>With that, she went on her way, shambling down the street. Travis stared at the coin.</p><p>It seemed to be pure silver, heavy in his hands. There were Latin words carved around the perimeter, and the picture at the centre was the face of a dog. <em>Strange</em>. It didn't look like it was carved from a different coin. It looked hand-made, too.</p><p>Travis tossed it in the air, then put it in his breast pocket. <em>Might be a nice little souvenir.</em></p><p>Storefronts opened with wooden toys and pressed flowers, candle shops sent a sweet smell into the air, sounds of people grew more dense as the crowd did.</p><p>The town felt alive and lived in, entirely unlike when he'd just gotten off the train.</p><p>This was, again, both a relief and an annoyance.</p><p>It was far less dead-feeling, but crowds made him nervous. They were loud. There were so many competing noises and conversations. And the people packed together? They'd bump into him, touch him. He hated being touched. It felt wrong, like wearing a shoe on the wrong foot.</p><p>The early-morning crowd thinned out the closer he got to the house. By the time he reached the foot of the hill there was nobody around. The apartment windows were dark and the storefronts were empty. The only life seemed to be the odd stray cat.</p><p>The house on the hill still cast an intimidating shadow, and here at the base of it, Travis was consumed. Devoured whole by the cool shade.</p><p>He walked up the path towards the massive house. Closer and closer, it still seemed a ways off.</p><p>Even when he was stood outside the massive door, it felt unreal.</p><p>He rang the bell and waited. His arms were strained, holding his luggage, but it would be impolite to put them down when he was so close to being able to unpack.</p><p>Finally, finally the door opened. Standing there was a young lady with long brown hair hanging loose past her shoulders. The dress she wore was casual, but clearly expensive. It was wide-necked <em>(evening wear?),</em> with loose sleeves <em>(So it's vintage?).</em></p><p>The colour was a nice, calm plum. A mark of wealth.</p><p>"Hello," she said with a polite smile.</p><p>"Hello," Travis replied. "I'm Travis Phelps, I-"</p><p>"OOH!" The girl squealed. "Travis, darling, we've been waiting!" She snatched the bag from his right hand and took him by the arm. "Come along, I'll show you to your quarters."</p><p>He had no choice but to follow. It felt wrong to allow a lady to carry his bag, but she seemed happy enough to take it.</p><p>They walked together through winding hallways with high ceilings.</p><p>"I'm Ashley Campell, by the way," she said cheerily. "So sorry for not introducing myself sooner."</p><p>At this point, Travis noticed how strikingly <em>green</em> her eyes were. They weren't quite normal, just a bit too bright.</p><p>She continued. "We really don't get visitors often, so when we found out you were visiting, oh, you should've seen the old man! He lit up like a lightbulb, I tell you."</p><p>
        <em>'We'? 'Old man'?</em>
      </p><p>"Um, how many people live here?" Travis asked. He hadn't seen any servants.</p><p>"Oh, hm," Ashley slowed her walk a bit. "Well, let me think."</p><p>She counted on her fingers for a moment, but eventually gave up.</p><p>"I wouldn't know, really. I'm only visiting, myself. Though, I do visit quite often. Most people here know me by name."</p><p><em>Another outsider?</em> Travis thought to himself. <em>Well, maybe not an 'outsider' if she visits that often.</em></p><p>They kept walking. The hallways just kept coming, and identical doors lined the walls. <em>Who needs so much space? </em></p><p>"You're probably thinking why we need so much space, right?"</p><p><em>Wow. Okay. </em>"Uh, why do you ask?"</p><p>"You just seemed like the type of person to think that. Practical, you know?"</p><p><em>No</em>. "I suppose."</p><p>She led him up a winding staircase, then another. Where were they in the house by this point? Travis couldn't tell.</p><p>By this point there were numbers on the doors, like in an apartment building <em>(Was this place an apartment?)</em>, and the walls started to have more decoration. Paintings, murals, potted plants… this part of the house didn't exactly feel lived in, but it put up a decent facade of being so.</p><p>At the very end of the hall, just next to another staircase, there was a room without a number. Ashley stopped here and let go of Travis's arm.</p><p>"Here we are! You can go on in, I'll fetch you a key."</p><p>She went rushing off before he could get a word in, and he was left to himself.</p></div></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I want this to be clear, I don't edit these lmao</p><p>And why did Travis meet ash first? I'm a dress history student and wanted to gush about Victorian dresses, even though I hate victorians.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Travis!" Ashley yelled from the other side of the door. "I've got your key, come get it!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got up from his bed, which he'd been sitting on. When he opened the door, Ashley was standing there, back straight and eyes focused. Seemed she was always like that. She offered him an old looking key. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um, thank you," He took it from her hand. "You could have opened the door."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh-, it would have been rude to just barge in, no?"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Convention didn't seem to bother her before. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Travis just gave a noncommittal shrug and began to turn away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, and Travis?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't just sulk in your room the whole time. You're allowed to go exploring," she folds her hands politely behind her back, "it's a giant house, you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, wow, hadn't noticed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"I'm not one for exploring."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well then, you should start if you're going to be here all winter. Once the snow's packed high and you're not allowed in town, the size of this place will be a blessing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> into town?" Travis crossed his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashley raised an eyebrow as if this information was supposed to be obvious. "Yeah. Old man Addison cares a lot about those in his care, and he wouldn't want anyone getting hurt or lost."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lost. Like Todd was the year before. "Ah… yes. Okay. Um, for now I'm just going to unpack."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, alright. If you need something, I'll be in the gallery. East wing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sauntered off and once again Travis was left with a strange impression. Ashley's entire demeanour felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> off from what he'd consider normal. Her hair wasn't done up in any way, but she was in such fine clothes. Her personality was loud and extroverted, but held little formality in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashley confused him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shrug, travis shut his door and continued unpacking. His small collection of shirts and trousers hardly filled the drawers in the dresser before him, and the few books he had brought fit easily just on the desk. His formal clothes, which he didn't really think he would need, hung neatly in the armoire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all nice and organized. Finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could get some real sleep. The sun was getting high in the sky, so he shut the thick curtains and collapsed onto the soft bed. Quite the improvement over a seat on a moving train. His eyes drifted slowly closed, and he floated off to sleep, not bothering to even undress.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Ash walked towards the gallery with purpose. Travis was supposed to be there </span>
  <em>
    <span>last night. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wasn't supposed to show up in the morning. Everyone was probably asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She'd sat by the door for hours waiting on him, and she was worn out. And when he finally arrived, he was distant. Quiet. Difficult to hold a conversation with. Her back hurt from carrying it the entire God forsaken time they were talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he was an open book, it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> shitty read. He was so suspicious of her that it made her skin crawl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had expected him to be more charming from the record they'd provided. Were people in Nockfell </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>so easily swayed? He was about as charismatic as a dead fucking rat. Had the conversation skills of one, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash was more than happy to be rid of him for the time being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall doors of the art gallery drew closer, and she sped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gallery was her safe haven, full of everything she loved. Hardly anyone ever bothered her there because it was so far from the main area of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lazy asses.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She used to go there a lot with one of her friends, but-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open violently, sending a cold gust of wind towards her. She shivered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wish you wouldn't do that," Ash grumbled. It still freaked her out after spending so much time at the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked in the gallery. The walls were lined with various paintings, most of them bought from artists out in town, but a few by her and her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her favourite was one of the rose gardens behind the house she'd done with him. He was better with broad and bold shapes, but she was much more in tune with the details. They were the perfect painting team…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved away the sad thoughts and stayed positive. It was what she was best at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, and painting. She liked painting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she could take another shot at the rose gardens. Without </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she never really managed to recapture them in quite the same way. He really was the uncontested champion of broad gestures and wide strokes that came together in </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>the right way to make a perfect portrait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could send for some canvas…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Christ, Addison, why don't you keep any servants?" she muttered in annoyance even though she knew the reason quite well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just made everything more difficult, though. Everyone had to fetch things for </span>
  <em>
    <span>themselves,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that wasn't exactly something she was used to. What she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> used to was using a </span>
  <em>
    <span>robe à la française </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a dressing gown and really, that explained enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she couldn't lounge around in nightclothes all day anymore, at least for a while. Yet another reason to be rather upset with the fact that Travis was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuckin' Travis.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought. He was chosen, so there had to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> they liked about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever it is, they must've had to look pretty damn deep. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh yeah shout out to my beautiful girlfriend for helping me translate all my bullshit from Russian into English</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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